Monday, March 8

I am in a sports bar on Sunday night. It's pretty empty. Mr. Happy Puppet Head is playing darts with a large naked monster. I'd like to play, but I've had problems with that monster before.

There's a woman sitting alone at the bar. She's attractive enough. Blonde. I'd much rather make out with her than not make out with her. I sit next to her, close enough to whisper in her ear. Close enough to smell her shampoo and the alchohol on her breath.

Believe in Yourself.

You are good enough.

Believe in yourself because you are really great.

You are far too good for these other people.

Spit on them. Hurt them if it makes you feel good. You are truley on a higher level of exhistence than the rest of us.

You can fly. Spread your wings and soar, soar higher and higher. Forever. Fly.

Have sex with me. You are attractive and of legal age. As I've already said, you're really great.

We are one. One in eternity, of one mind and one soul. White emptiness surrounds us in a blissfull glow of perfection far surpassing even that of the infinite beauty of Heaven itself.

I have clean sheets. And I just took a shower. Smell my hair if you don't believe me. We can pick up some condoms on the way home.

You are perfect.

No comments: